


Stuck in Verse

by FumeKnightofShovelry



Series: Gency One-Shots [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage, Poetry, White Day, this was fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 05:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FumeKnightofShovelry/pseuds/FumeKnightofShovelry
Summary: On White Day, Genji flexes his poetic muscle.





	Stuck in Verse

**Author's Note:**

> Happy White Day to the OTP! Here's a follow up to last month's Valentine's Day story!

“Angela, do you know what day it is?”

She looked up from her book, glancing over her glasses at Genji. Her husband was blocking her light, casting a shadow where the afternoon sun should have been streaming through the window of their home. But she did not castigate him: she’d been eagerly awaiting this day, too.

“Indeed I do, Genji. It’s a month, to the day, after Valentine’s Day. I’d say we had an eventful February.”

Genji laughed and allowed a broad smile to spread across his features. “Quite, Angela. And I fondly recall the apples you baked for me. I was hoping to return the favor.” His tone dropped an octave into throaty rumble she knew so well. He wanted to act in the spirit of the holiday, and that meant flirting. She could play along with his act.

“Ah, yes! It’s White Day, isn’t it?” She wasn’t as familiar with the Japanese tradition as Genji, but she knew that it involved a reversal of the gift-giving that had happened on Valentine’s Day. She’d given him the gift then, so it was his turn now to the same.

“Indeed! Now, please don’t get up. This gift is, shall we say…” He coughed and adjusted the collar of his shirt, face slightly flushed, and tapped his fingers nervously against his pant leg. “Something that doesn’t require you to get up.” His nervousness was clearly exaggerated, but she couldn’t bring herself to ignore the hint of genuine anxiety beneath his overblown franticness.

“Genji, are you well?”

“I’m fine, Angela, just a little bit skittish. I’ve never given this kind of present before.”

Angela was glad he wasn’t wearing his mask, or really any part of his suit besides the essentials. She knew him well enough to read his body language, but the flashes of nervousness in his face were genuine. So, without rising, she leaned forward, setting her book aside the couch, and gave him a comforting smile.

“ _Liebling_ , I am certain it is excellent. I’m looking forward to whatever it is! So please, no need to worry.” He usually wasn’t this flustered. Genji must have done something quite unusual for today to prompt this much trepidation. Thankfully, her words seemed to be what he needed, and he let loose a breath he’d been holding.

“All right, Angela. Here goes…” Reaching a hand into his pants pocket, Genji pulled out a heavily folded piece of paper, slowly unfurling it and clearing his throat. He paused and grinned sheepishly.

“Please don’t laugh.”

‘I can assure you that I won’t—”

_“There is a bond between us most true,_

_That gave us both life anew._

_A woman I love,_

_Fits with me like a glove,_

_That woman, Angela, is you.”_

Genji let the words hang between them for a long moment, hands still clutching the paper that he’d read from. Angela blinked, and didn’t stop herself from smiling.

“Genji! A poem, for me? _Danke_!” She clapped her hands together and grinned even more broadly. “I did not realize you had an interest in poetry!”

The little game they’d been playing with tone fell by the wayside as Genji returned her smile and nodded. “Not so much in my younger days, but Zenyatta has given me some instruction. He is an excellent poet.”

“I imagine! Thank you, Genji. That was a fantastic gift.”

“ _Was_ ?” Genji quirked an eyebrow and tilted the paper towards Angela: should could see quite a few more lines written down than he’d spoken. “I’m not done yet, Angela. For a day _this_ significant, I have several more poetic treats for you to enjoy. Allow me to continue.”

He paused and cleared his throat as Angela remained at attention. She adored theater, and this sort of performance was one she hoped to see more of in the future. “Ahem. This one is a bit longer, so pardon my pauses.”

_“‘You’ve rescued me again, Doctor Ziegler’,_

_I mean that in more ways than one._

_There are many that you might infer,_

_But you shall know by the time I am done.”_

Genji stopped, licking his lips and flitting his gaze back and forth from the page to Angela’s eyes. She smiled and nodded. “Very good! Please, continue.”

_“Not simply my physical body,_

_For I am grateful for so much more._

_Although it may be a statement most naughty,_

_My features_ do _offer you much to adore.”_

Angela felt a flush rise to her cheeks. He couldn’t mean...no, really? She opened her mouth to inquire, but he was already off on the next quatrain.

_“I reflect on these years together ,_

_The path that has joined us thus far,_

_Two birds of the same feather,_

_A binding that defines who we are.”_

_“So this White Day, Angela, I implore,_

_That you remain with me forever more.”_

Genji allowed himself to indulge in a bow as his sonnet’s impact rested heavy in the air, even after he’d finished, and Angela clapped and whooped.

“Excellent! Oh, Genji, that was beautiful. How long did that take you to compose?”

Genji stayed bowed, speaking towards the floor. “Longer than I would like to admit, but shorter than such a piece probably deserved. I admit, that was stiffer than I had expected. Shakespearean sonnets can...drag on a bit. I wasn’t repeating myself too much near the end?”

“Genji, it was wondrous. And even if it did cycle, what matters is that you _cared_.” Angela tapped her foot on the ground from her seated position, prompting Genji to look back up at his wife. “You wanted to give me something that you were invested in making, and that means a great deal to me. Thank you.”

“Angela…” Genji stepped towards her, free hand outstretched to take hers and bring her up to his eye-level. He didn’t need to speak as he met her lips in a kiss, feeling her smile against his own, her soft breaths puffing against his cheeks as they embrace each other in more ways than one. There was a serenity to each other’s touch, a calm that suffused through them, knowing that the other was there and so close.

He pulled away, still holding her hand, the paper having fallen to the floor so he could grasp her shoulder. “I had another idea. Not something I planned, but being here with you made me think it’d be fun.”

“Oh?” Angela tilted her head at Genji, letting him step away from her, fingers still intertwined.

“You’ve heard of haiku, right?”

“Of course.” Angela’s thoughts took off at the idea that he was about to serenade her with a haiku. She’d never heard him perform poetry before today, but she was already giddily imagining Genji flowing and forming words into beauty in simple, five-seven-five syllable verses.

“I could create one for you, but I thought of something that might make it even more enjoyable. Haikus are originally _hokku_ , intended as merely the opening verses of _renga_ , collaborative poetry. So…” He trailed off and let her catch his meaning. When recognition glinted in her eyes, he continued. “Would you like to try to make something beautiful together, Angela?”

“Would I?” She laughed and stroked his hair, nuzzling forward against his cheek. “I would adore the opportunity, _liebling_. How do we start?”

“Well, I give you the expected haiku, five-seven-five, and you give me two lines with seven syllables each. And repeat. We can swap starters every so often, if you’d like.”

“Easy enough. Is that all?”

“Well, no.” Genji bit his lower lip and squeezed her hand and shoulder a little more tightly. “My ‘haiku’ doesn’t actually _need_ to be five-seven-five. It just needs seventeen syllables across three lines.”

“That’s...confusing, but I follow for now.”

“And also, your response needs to be referring to the offering before. So, if we’re on the seventh repetition, you can only refer to my seventh set of three lines, and on my eighth start, I can only refer to your seventh response to my seventh stanza. It’s...confusing.” He conceded, pecking her on the chin. “But it’s supposed to keep it as a set of flowing stories, rather than a jump from spot to spot.”

“So, like improvisational acting?” Angela queried, her lips drifting over his nose. “We roll with what we’re prompted with, rather than shutting each other down?”

A smile from her husband. “ _Exactly_. Now, can I go first?”

“Of course.”

Genji took a deep breath and a step away from his wife, and spoke.

“I must warn you, I am terrible at this.”

“Me too. Let’s be terrible together.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He chuckled.

_“Gold-haired glory,_

_Lustrous and truly lovely,_

_Angela Ziegler.”_

If he was going to be sappy about this, he was going to go all-out. She had to act in kind, but she couldn’t jump to him just yet. She had to respond to his verse, to play with the rules.

“ _Doctor blessed with life and love,_

 _Modest, despite her husband._ ”

She’d trapped him now. He _had_ to respond with something referencing himself.

_“Savior to all she touches with her light,_

_One who earns adoration.”_

_Clever_ Genji. Angela would need to be more cunning with her wordplay. But this was very enjoyable.

“ _And more than anything else, a giver,_

 _Treasuring what grace she sees_.”

Clumsy, clumsy, _clumsy_. She’d made it about herself again. Now he’d capitalize on it.

_“Tense, turning, taut and tangled tight,_

_In some distress,_

_She seeks an end to this.”_

Oh, that rotten—

_“Frustrated despite her calm,_

_Tiring of this dodging man.”_

_G_ enji opened his mouth to respond, couldn’t stop himself. His face scrunched up into a mixture of a snort and a smile, and he guffawed into his shoulder with what sounded like a sneeze, but she knew he was just trying not to laugh. She fell to pieces at the sight, falling forward to giggle against Genji’s shoulder.

They chuckled against each other, comforted by the other’s weight, finally coming to their senses as she wiped her eyes and nose on his shirt. Not very romantic, but he was doing the same, and one messy turn deserved another.

“That was good.” Genji managed to stumble out the words. “Bickery, but we kept the spirit of it up. Would you like to start now?”

“Of course. A moment, please.” Angela was still clearing the laughter out of her system, unsure if she could put the thought to verse until she’d recovered fully. It took another few giggles, but she managed to get herself under control while Genji waited patiently, letting her laugh into his shoulder.

“Ready?” She finally managed to speak. When he nodded, she found her confidence returning, the verse spilling out without a waver.

_“Green and silver grace,_

_Lithe, dangerous, powerful_

_Here reformed and wise.”_

Genji was impressed. She’d gotten into the swing of things rather well. Now he needed to answer her prompt, and he had just the right idea.

_“A bad boy, and then gone rogue,_

_Enlightened, absolved.”_

_“Happiness found here,_

_And...um…serenity achieved...wait...”_

She trailed off and shared a long, awkward stare with Genji. He was expecting her to finish her verse, to continue the story and their collaboration.

Angela couldn’t bring herself to finish it. The stumbling block, the barrier in the roll she’d found, had shattered her focus, and she burst into laughter yet again. Leaning forward into Genji, she howled and cried, evidence of her hilarity echoing throughout the room. Genji fell apart with her, his giggles growing into yowls and peals of laughter until they were both born down to the ground, her atop him, mingling in their joy and happiness.

When they finally found themselves able to speak again, after no small amount of snorting, sniffling, and tangled limbs, they’d managed to work their way back to the couch Angela had been reading on when this had all started, her now draped over him as he rested his head on the armrest.

“It’s harder than I thought.” Angela murmured, eyes red with her mirth-induced crying, hands drifting across Genji’s covered stomach. “It needs a lot of focus, and if there’s a single stumble, you have to start all over.”

“That’s part of the appeal.” Genji let his hands tangle in her hair. “Collaborative poetry is best when a specific path isn’t the goal. Instead of trying to ‘game’ the system, letting it drift naturally into a tale is the smoothest course.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Pity we couldn’t stick with that.”

“Don’t worry, Angela. There will be more opportunities.”

“Mmm.” Angela nodded against his chest, breathing softly, feeling his breath beneath her.

“Angela?”

“Yes, Genji?”

“I also got you some chocolates. And yes, they’re swiss. They’re in the kitchen. Only the best for the woman who gave me such delightful _honmei-choco_ one month ago.”

Angela snapped upright, beaming and smiling, clasping her hands together, then letting them fall onto his thighs. If he could have captured any one moment of that day, it would have been the pure, complete joy Angela personified in that moment, everything alive and bright with the vigor of a woman who knew she was loved. As she leaned forward, Genji whispered one more time before their enclosed lips robbed each other of speech.

“Happy White Day, Angela.”


End file.
